Coming Back To Us
by Sammi-Loves
Summary: Ste's perspective of Lynsey's death and beyond, as he and Brendan begin to reconnect.


I hate that I can't make this better for him.

Brendan is one of the toughest people I know. Seeing him so vulnerable, so broken… it's bringing back all the reasons that I loved him in the first place. All the reasons that I went back to him time and time again, despite the violence. He's been different ever since he got out of prison; he's angry with the world and he's taking it out on everyone around him. Including me. And even though he's put me through so much crap in the past, it was him acting as if he couldn't bear to be close to me that finally broke me. I knew I couldn't carry on with the cycle. I couldn't go back to him if he didn't even want me back. I tried – I really did – to get over him, and I really thought it was starting to work. Seeing him didn't feel so much like a punch to the gut, and I started to make a life away from him. Me and Doug decided to start a business together, then we decided to be something more. Even when Brendan interfered, and he said everything I've ever wanted to hear, I still didn't feel like he actually wanted _me_ so I was able to walk away. Just.

It's crazy. He put me through absolute hell and I still feel guilty for what I did to him to get the deli. I put on a strong face for Doug, but it's like Brendan infiltrated his way back into my brain again and the sad thing is, I don't think I even want him to leave; I feel like I'm breathing properly again when he's near me. But I managed to stay strong. Stay away.

Until now.

Lynsey's death was a complete shock. After everything with Silas I thought she'd live a happy life; she fought the villain and won. When I tell my kids a story, the heroine always lives happily ever after. She doesn't get killed, months later, just when everything's starting to get back to normal. The fairytale is all messed up and wrong. I hate it.

I didn't understand what was happening when I first saw her limp, lifeless body. I definitely didn't think she'd been killed. It wasn't until I saw the look on Brendan's face – _desolate, horrified, numb_ – that I knew something was seriously wrong. And the terrible thing is, my first thought wasn't how I could help her. All I could think about was how it would be affecting him; how to make him stop hurting; how to get that horrible, broken look off his face. And when I grabbed him back from her lifeless body it was all I could do to keep him upright. I hugged him for the first time in months and I felt whole again. Like I could finally see just how much there still was between us. How he still needed me just as much as I need him. How I could be the one to help him through this, they way I should've when he was sent to prison. I could help put him back together again.

Last night, all I could think about was the despondency on his face and the delicious weight of his arms around my body. I had to force myself to stay in bed; it was all I could do to stop myself from going to him. Then today, when he protected me from the reporter, and thanked me, and looked at me like I was the most important person in his world… it was all I could do to stop myself from kissing him again. Even though I'm with Doug, and I still don't know if I can truly trust Brendan, in that moment I felt that unbreakable bond between us again. The reason I can never forget him. The reason I can't leave him alone. And the reason I know I will always love him. He may be dark, and destructive and dangerous, but in that moment he was just my Brendan and I loved him. I felt the need to do anything to help him, anything to ease his pain just a little bit. I offered to go sit with Cheryl and I felt that connection between us again. I knew, without asking, exactly what he wanted. Cheryl is his world, and he would do anything to protect her; and until Lynsey's killer is found, protecting her means keeping her away from the village. And as much as I don't want him to go, as much as I want him near me, I need even more to help him right now.

Riley lets me into the flat and points me to the bathroom, before leaving with Mercedes and Bobby in tow. I can hear Chez sobbing her heart out and it makes me want to break down the door and hold her, or go and find someone more competent to deal with what she's going through, someone who can wind back time and save Lynsey or who can make the pain she's feeling vanish. But at the moment, I'm all she has and Brendan needs me to be strong for her. I sit down on the floor and try and think of anything I can say to help. Everything I think of sounds stupid or banal or insensitive. I tell her I know what she's going through, and I do. Losing Rae was horrible, and it hurt me so much. Practically losing Brendan at the same time pushed me over the edge. I didn't leave the flat for days, I refused to get of bed, I couldn't stop reliving certain moments over and over again. Rae, helping me with the kids. Brendan, laughing at something stupid I said. Brendan shouting at Rae. Brendan threatening Rae. Being told Rae was dead, and Brendan was the one to kill her. My world collapsing around me. My kids were the only things that kept me afloat.

I tell Cheryl that I think she'd feel closer to Lynsey in Ireland, and I mean it. I remember, just after Rae's death, phoning her constantly, just to hear her voicemail so I can feel any kind of connection to her. I also remember, when I first starting leaving the flat again, the way my feet kept dragging me back to Brendan's home and the club. Anywhere with happy memories. Anywhere where I could pretend he hadn't done something so dreadful, something that would mean he was out of my life for good. I had my doubts about his guilt even then, but I couldn't bear to think of him locked up in prison, scared, alone and innocent. So I stomped on those doubts and tried to force myself to hate him. It never fully worked.

Chez's crying in the bathroom seems to have eased off slightly but she gives no indication that she's planning on coming out anytime soon so I try again.

"I know Brendan's doing his over protective brother stuff, he's just too proud to ask for help." I don't even know if it's his pride, or a general belief that he won't get any help even if he asks for it that actually stops him; Chez doesn't need semantics now. The crying in the bathroom eases slightly more.

"But he needs it." He really does. He looked more broken than I've ever seen him; it's as if he's not Brendan Brady anymore. He was never as indestructible as he made out, but now, more than ever, he needs help. "From someone." And how I wish that person was me. But it can't be. As much as I want to help him, there's too much between us at the moment for me to be what he needs right now.

"Chez?" After a beat I hear movement in the bathroom and, slowly, the door opens and Cheryl is towering over me, her face blotchy, her eyes red and watering. I scramble to my feet and go to engulf her in a hug but she steps away from me, her normally bubbly smile gone, replaced with a closed off, broken look.

"You really think I should leave her here? Alone?" Her voice is hoarse.

"Chez, that body is not Lynsey. It's horrible, but Lynsey's gone. Staying around here, with all the gossip and the memories… it's not going to help you grieve, or remember her the way you should. Go home, surround yourself with people who knew her and loved her like you did. Come to terms with everything properly, and then when you come back you'll be able to see everything more clearly."

Cheryl nods slowly, her face giving nothing away.

I reach out and softly touch Cheryl's arm. She stiffens, but doesn't pull away. "Brendan lost her too, Chez. And I know he may seem like he's coping, but he's not. And he's not going to be able to grieve properly either until he knows you're safe. Going home for a while is best for both of you."

Cheryl's eyes begin to well up again but she nods, grasping my hand. "You're a good friend, Ste." I smile at her, and squeeze her hand in mine. She's been through so much heartache recently, Mal, Steph, Gilly, Brendan, and now this… she's so strong, stronger than me, and I admire her so much. Even now, I know Brendan will be looked after with her around. She's amazing.

"Do you need a hand packing? Or I could make you something to eat?"

She shakes her head. "No. But could you gather up Brendan's things for me please? I just need to sort myself out."

"Sure, Chez." I say, letting go of her hand as she retreats back into the bathroom, the door closing with a soft 'click' behind her. I walk quickly into the bedroom and see Brendan's bag under the bed and an array of rumpled clothing in a pile on the floor which I fold and shove back into the case. His clothes smell of him, and I am tempted to steal a shirt to keep his scent with me, but I refrain. I still have a shirt of his at the flat, folded carefully under my bed. His smell has long since faded from it, but sometimes it is the only thing that can get me to sleep. I've never let myself consider the implications of that.

There's a notepad and pen left on the dresser and I grab them before I even have time to think. The last time I wrote to Brendan I told him I had stolen £80,000 from him and he was never getting me back. I remember writing it, in a fit of anger, the words filled with vitriol and hate. I don't think I ever meant any of it, not really. This time the words are far kinder, far more honest:

_Brendan,_

_If you need anything just call me and let me know. Take care of Cheryl, and take care of yourself._

I hesitate, before scrawling, _I'll miss you. Be safe. _

_Ste. _

I hear the bathroom door reopen and I hastily put the note into Brendan's bag and place a shirt on top to conceal it. I don't know why; the note isn't particularly personal or sentimental, but I don't want anyone else to see it. It's meant for Brendan.

Cheryl enters the room with two toiletry bags, hands me one and begins chucking stuff unthinkingly into her bag. It's as if, now she's realised she can leave she can't get out of here fast enough. I don't blame her; the village gossips, plus all the reporters outside, do not lend themselves well to grieving a loved one. I make sure everything is packed away and close Brendan's bag, Cheryl zipping hers closed almost simultaneously.

I grab her bags before she can and follow her in silence as we leave Riley's flat. There's a taxi waiting outside that Cheryl must have called and she walks towards it, cringing instinctively at the sight of the police tape cordoning off her home. We spot Brendan leaving the club, and Cheryl immediately calls him, "Brendan? You're right. I'm sorry. Let's get out of here."

He looks at her in disbelief but accepts it quickly, walking over to collect their bags from my hands. "Thank you." He whispers, his face so close to mine that I can see the grief reflected in his gorgeous eyes, before he turns, making his way over to the taxi.

Texas comes towards us and tries to ask for Cheryl's forgiveness, but Chez just tells her off. Serves her right. Texas had no right to go to the press, and when it's causing people like Cheryl this much pain I find it very hard to forgive her mistake. Cheryl walks away, and I glare at Texas before turning away myself and shutting the taxi door behind Chez and Brendan. For a minute, I wish that I was going with them, but I understand that they need to be with family now. They'll be alright together and I'll be waiting when they get back. I smile softly at Brendan, and blow Cheryl a kiss as the taxi pulls away. I shake my head at Texas again, angry at her for being one of the major reasons why the Brady's need to leave the village, before walking away.

I don't know what to do now. The flat is tense and uncomfortable at the moment; Amy is upset and angry at me because of how I handled the Ally situation. She's is getting closer to forgiving him every second but I just can't trust him. There's something not right about him; he acts like he can do no wrong, but we don't know him, not really. I sure as hell don't trust his stripper story and until I figure out where he was when Lynsey was killed he is coming nowhere near my kids.

Things have been weird between Doug and me recently as well, so I don't want to go back to the deli. He's upset about Lynsey's death and I don't know what to do to comfort him. Do I leave him alone? Hold him? Talk to him? We've been together for such a short period of time I just don't know him well enough to actually be able to help. Little things he does makes me feel like he doesn't know me all that well either. Like butting in with Ally earlier; I told him my fears and he just brushed them off, told Ally that Amy would forgive him. He just doesn't understand.

I begin to wander aimlessly through the village; there's no one around at the moment that I can go to and I need to sort my head out, properly this time.

I miss him already.


End file.
